Distraction
by ScribeOfRED
Summary: She's stealing every scrap of his attention.


He never realized one person could be so distracting, and that's saying something considering he grew up and still interacts on a day-to-day basis with four younger brothers. Honestly, though, it's like she knows _exactly_ what kind of effect she has on him and is exploiting it in every possible way. Except he isn't sure, because Kayo relishes her job's requirements that she stay mysterious and often pulls those elements into her everyday life, to the point where it can leave the rest of them unsure as to her true thoughts and motives.

Unless she decides to bring them into the fold, at least, and she most certainly isn't talking to him about this. It seems like she's doing everything _except_ talk to him right now, and yet somehow she's proving all the more distracting for it. Oh, sure, they talk about work, about the day's events, even banter in the same borderline-snarky way they always have (which he tries very hard not to read anything extra into, one way or the other), but none of it touches upon what it is that's between them—whatever _it_ is.

Scott really doesn't know, and he isn't sure he's supposed to know. They work together; surely anything between them would only create more problems than the existing batch.

Doesn't stop him from wanting her, though, and in so many ways he's beginning to wonder if the desire is permanent.

In an odd coincidence, she's never in or around the pool when he's the only one out there, but if any other family members are also around, she's present, working her way through what he's convinced is a steadily shrinking series of swimsuits. He tries not to let her catch him staring, but it happens with growing frequency. It's not like he can help it, either—she's too pretty not to look at, particularly with so much soft brown skin on display, and he longs to appreciate her properly, in every little way she deserves.

Sometimes she'll join him in the sunken lounge and step around him to touch a specific point on the projected world map, talking about the new military bases going in here or how she's tracked the Hood's operations there, and all he'll be able to see is her hair swept up into that high, glossy ponytail, the way he wants to catch hold of and use it to tilt her head back so he can reach her lips, the crisp line of her jaw, the graceful curve of her neck without having to bend down so far.

Trying to focus on what she's saying in an effort to distract himself never works as well as he hopes it will. Her voice is often sharp, but unless she's angry, it's less like blades and more like stones that have been polished to show off both their fine edges and their elegant, colorful depths. And like stone, she always seems in control. The more time that passes, the more he becomes consumed with the idea of seeking out the cracks he knows must be there—not the ones that he already knows about, the ones he pokes when he's looking for an argument; rather, he wants to see _her_ , the glowing-with-passion, geodic young woman who too often keeps even her adopted family at arms' length, to the detriment of them all.

But trying to push his way in will only make her close herself off further—or that's what he fears will happen. She's done so in the past, and though it hurt then, he knows it'll be much, much worse now.

So he watches, torn between trying not to breathe at all and trying to breathe as deep as possible whenever she steps into his personal space, close enough he can smell honey and jasmine and a hint of spices he can't name but associates with her alone—ginger, maybe? Whatever it is, the aroma is heady and mouth-watering, and too often he has to offer her a smile he hopes isn't as strained as it feels before contriving some reason or another to back off, lest his hands begin wandering and he finds himself in some serious trouble. Everything he knows about self-defence, he's learned from Kayo, but that doesn't mean she's taught him everything _she_ knows, and it doesn't seem worth the risk.

Not yet, anyway. Maybe when he's worked out what's between them. Which he should have done a long time ago, weeks and more, but the timing's never been right. This hesitance is uncharacteristic of him, he realizes that, but he wants this—wants _her_ —more than he's wanted anything in ages, and frightening her off is unthinkable.

And yet...

Surely he isn't imagining those times he looks at her to find she's in the process of turning away, or more frequently as of late, she's watching him back. He's an easy person to watch, he knows—he's aware of the appreciative glances he receives whenever he hops over to the mainland—but it's more than just that, isn't it? Or is he reading too much into insignificant things again?

Hard to say, and he's already analyzed this situation far more than he does most of his work. (That he generally works under extreme pressure and has to make split-second decisions is completely irrelevant.)

But hey. His father didn't make it to first the Moon and then Mars by not being bold, so maybe that's all he needs: to take that first step, be it large or small. Certainly that's better than being driven to endless distraction.

Talk to her. That's all he has to do. And he's good at talking too, so it'll be fine.

(He doesn't talk to her, because her lips taste oh-so-sweet and he'd much rather taste them than waste time with anything so mundane as _talking_.)


End file.
